True to Caesar
by Cryosmith
Summary: Henry Clarke has been many things in his life. Mercenary, gunsmith, beggar at times. But a slave for the Legion? That's a new one.


I cannot believe I was captured.

Now, some may say to themselves. "Why Henry, you were smuggling illegal drugs through Legion held territory, that's usually a death sentence! Aren't you glad you're alive?"

Well I would have two things to say to that person, one, yes I am glad I'm alive! And two, yes I know its crucifiction for hauling drugs, but guess what? That's for retards, and contrary to SOME beliefs, I am not mentally retarded, which is why I am alive.

See, the people west of the Mississippi River, the sludge filled radioactive river whose mighty and glorious shores I grew up on, they're under the rule of a fuckwit prick who in all his infinite wisdom and glory, imagined. "Hey, what if I united the american southwest under the flag of a bull, using a society built upon conquered, half enslaved, half indoctrinated tribals based off of ancient Rome, a civilization which died out some two thousand years ago." That fuckwit then named himself Caesar (Which I never understood, is he referring to the title or the man? Not that I'd ever get close enough to ask.) and proceeded to do, well, just that. And then he said. "But what if we banned all modern medicine and technology, except in certain cases that I say so on." And the goddamn hypocritical bastard did exactly that.

Now I can admire a man who has a vision and makes it happen, really warms the heart y'know? Like one of those old world books that says shit like "If you put your mind to it, you can do anything!"

HOWEVER, when that dream just so happens to be an autocratic, all encompassing society which kills gays, (Except when legionnaires have some bitch, again, hypocritical jackasses.) relegates women to essentially slavery and then just enslaves a whole bunch of people regardless of already having a pseudo-slave caste? Well friend I think you need to take a long look at yourself, and then decide what fucked you up bad enough to make you want to do that, cause, goddamn you got some problems or something.

Anyways, these people west of the Mississippi, under Caesars boot? The addicts and addicts to be for society were crying out. "Oh lord and heaven above, somebody, anybody secretly peddle drugs in our streets!" And me, being in massive, overwhelming debt to a crime boss named Johnny who just so happened to peddle such drugs, I got the short stick.

Johnny has a man come up to me and say. "Listen pally, either you meet Johnny right now or I paint your fucking brains on the wall behind you."

And me, being me, I say. "Fuck." And let him lead me into a little town about five miles outside of New Orleans. We go there, and there we find this real old estate, i'm talking like, two hundred years before the bombs fell old so this thing is ancient by now. But, it's in good condition and we go inside and low and behold, there's Johnny!

So Johnny says to me real smooth like. "Henry! Long time no see! Now, if you go to Arizona like a good boy, and get a small drug trade set up in Flagstaff, I'll forgive your debts! Nothing much, just get the first supply there, you're gonna hire a few dealers, get a market going, after a few months, we'll send a man to relieve you, you're free!"

Turns out, he's even got a route all planned out for me already. So for most of the way there, I'm either not in legion territory, or in territory so sparsely populated it hardly even mattered. But still, like the good drug mule I am, every night before I sleep, I bury the drugs, so they can't get spotted or stolen, but I keep my legit goods on top, cause Johnny has me set up as a "Scrap trader" so I have a reason for being there. Well one night, I set my bedroll down, bury my drugs and eat a cold dinner and go to sleep. Now, I was along a highway, on what seemed like a relatively well used route, so I didn't think it was suspicious, nor did I think there would be any actual Legion about. God though, had other plans, and I was woken up at some time just before dawn by a squad of legionnaires.

They were quite polite, asking me what I was doing, how business was, where my destination was etc etc. My drugs were buried some two hundred yards off the road, so I wasn't worried about that. I offered them food and a little water, they denied and asked where my mark of trading was.

"My what?" I asked them.

Now as it turns out, to legally trade in Legion territory, you need a mark of trading, basically a stamped coin that has a bull on one side, and a brahmin on the other. They were pretty easy to get too, you just had to present yourself at any local administrative center, pay a small fee and you're good to go. Johnny had not sprung for that.

The legionnaires were obviously reserve soldiers, their leader walked with a limp and his face was wrinkled slightly, the others couldn't have been more than sixteen at most. Even still, they were remarkably disciplined. One of the younger ones smacked me hard across the face, and two others grabbed my arms. They did a thorough search of the area, and proclaimed that, "By the order of Caesar, as a smuggler, you are now a capture of the Legion, and shall be sold into slavery."

They lacked any of the fancy bomb collars that some slavers used, but their machetes looked sharp enough to shave with, and their handguns were more than convincing that I should listen, especially since they had taken my weapons, a pre war U.S. army issue bayonet, and a .357 repeater. For two days, they marched me towards the nearest "town" which was really just a hole in the wall. Some hundred people all around this one spot on the side of the road because of a well. It was, however, also home to a Legion administrative center. They needed these in order to run the places they conquered, get men and taxes from. Once a boy hit six, he was sent packing for training as a legionnaire. Also in these centers, they had "Detention" where basically, they collected all the criminals, which now included myself, and sent them to the massive slave auctions the Legion held in areas where they were concentrated, areas like Flagstaff, Denver or Dry Wells further west.

The gang that nabbed me shoved me into the "cell" Which was just a large room with a reinforced door that had a sliding portion cut into it, so they could distribute food and water. In the room were five people including myself, ten bolted down bed frames and nothing else. Two of those people were kids, little blond twins. Those boys were alone, afraid and as far as I could tell, guilty of nothing except not being sent off by their mother six years before for training. One was named Cole, the other Alex. The other two were more interesting. One was a man named Max, who had stolen water, he was missing his left middle finger for that, but otherwise, he seemed like he would be sold for a good price because he could sew and honestly, was a little on the girly side. Then there was a women, Anna. She was, without a doubt, one of the most annoying people I had run into, she didn't cry that she was going to be sold as a prostitute to some random man, she just acted like a complete and total bitch.

Sitting there, looking at my new companions, I realized with a start that I had no idea what I was going to be sold for. I wasn't girly enough to be a bitch, I had some mechanical and electronic skills, nothing fancy but enough to let me get by as a mechanic if I needed to. I was solidly built, tall by wasteland standards. Physical labour maybe?

But that was neither here nor there, and a few days later, they corralled us all together, and like the chain gangs of the pre war prison system, the cuffed our hands together and linked our ankles by chains to ensure we didn't run. We were only some fourty five miles out from Flagstaff, but it was harsh desert terrain, and those people had been there longer than I had, eating the slave gruel they served us. We didn't get none too plenty water either. That being said, it wasn't too much of a surprise when on the third day of travel, we moved slower due to being binded, one of the twins, Alex I believe? Fell and didn't get back up. I was third in line, with the twins behind me, Alex was at the back and he collapsed. I had to hold Cole in my arms as we was screaming and crying for his brother to wake up. He scratched at my arms and tried to bite me, but I bearhugged him and buried my head into his back to avoid having to look at Alex, laying there lifeless in the hot Arizona sun. I heard a splash of water as they attempted to revive him, after a few minutes of rest, I heard a lock click, they set the extra weight of the chain on Cole's shoulders and threw his brother to the side of the road.

Two days later we made Flagstaff.

Now I grew up near New Orleans, so I know a city when I see one, and although this wasn't nearly of the same size or scope as home, Flagstaff was well on its way there. We didn't get to see all that much of it, however, we were marched through the slums where, citizens? Of the Legion laughed and jeered and threw rotten fruit at us. We marched through the bustling city streets, but never had a problem with stopping. People cleared out of the way for legionnaires faster than they would have for cars. We were brought to another, larger detention center, looking at it, it may have been a pre war police station or prison, this time we were kept in actual cells.

After admittance, we were processed. That is, your cell was emptied and brought to a man with an extremely large book, you would give your name and skills.

"Name?" He asked when it was my turn.

"Henry Clarke." I answered.

"Skills?" He asked again.

I considered it for a moment. After I thought, I gave a mental shrug and said. "Mechanics, fighting and I have a half decent education."

The man in front of me did an actual shrug and motioned for the next person.

For the next three days, I sat in a stifling hot cell jam packed full of people, getting as little food and water as was possible for me to consume, and yet still live. Then, the auction happened. I hadn't heard anything about it beyond the fact that it was supposed to be coming "soon." But I could feel the energy in the place as everyone woke up. The chance to get out of that place of concrete, smeared with blood and shit and smelling of stale human sweat, piss and vomit, well hell, even slavery seemed better than that.

As the night approached, they let us all out of our cells, closely monitored by guards with LMG's at the ready. We were marched into a large cage behind an open air auditorium already filling with legionnaires and rich civilians. We were filed into smaller cages inside the larger cage, each cage pertaining to the first letter of our last name, or if we didn't have a last name, our first name. When it was about seven, with the sun in retreat and the air now cooling, if not cool, they lit torches that we could even see through the heavy drapes that separated us from the stage. When our name was called, as they were doing alphabetically, we walked through a cut in the drape in the middle, up some stairs and onto the stage.

It started with a women. After that, I stopped paying attention. The cheers and yelling of the crowd made me think it was close to six hundred people bidding, and looking around, I saw about a thousand captures, I frowned at first, there couldn't have been that many people in the detention center! But then I realized they likely had more in the city, a depressing thought if there ever was one.

Eventually they got to the C's, but even still it took a while for them to call out "Henry Clarke!" It took me a moment to recognize my own name, but I presented myself after a few moments of confusion.

I was led out of the series of chain link corridors surrounded on either side by the massive crowd of future slaves, when I finally left the fenced in compound, a legionnaire approached me with a cattle prod and said one word. "Strip."

"Wha-?" I started only to get hit on the arm with the prod, with a yelp, I quickly shed my jeans and shirt down to my boxers.

"Do not question me again profligate, it is your place to listen, and the people need to know the meat they're buying." The legionnaire sneered at me. I managed a nod back. Satisfied, he led me bound up the stairs.

The announcer shouted my name out at the top of his lungs and began presenting me, showing off my muscles and good health.

"And not only that, the boy is both a machinist AND a fighter!" He exclaimed much to the crowds delight.

Now, at the time, the thing I was most worried about was getting raped in the ass, call me homophobic if you will, but its an out only hole here. I forgot that the Legion ran fighting pits, those that were smart, didn't advertise they knew how to fight.

Remember how I said I wasn't mentally retarded? I might be wrong.

The bidding started high, and only got higher, I didn't realize how much money I was worth, 300 Aureus, which is some 30,000 bottle caps, and I was sold to a short, well built gentlemen.

"I am Centurion Titus." He gave me a broad, surprisingly white grin. "And you shall be my new pit fighter."

* * *

We sat in the back of a horse drawn carriage together, a slave drove while me and Titus sat in the back. Him, clean shaven, muscular and dangerous looking. Me, dirty and covered in stubble, unwashed jeans and a flannel shirt.

Titus considered me for a moment before speaking. "So, profligate, you said you had both mechanical and fighting experience. Tell me about both of them."

I shrugged, the muscles in my body were tense, everything seemed too cool and open after days of being packed into a cell full of other. "My father was a gunsmith, I learned some mechanical engineering from him, never really took it to heart though. Survived as a mechanic before though." Titus merely nodded slightly and rested his chin on his hand. "As for fighting, I've run with a few mercenary companies before. Most of my experience is with rifles, but i'm fair in a bar fight."

He made a "hmph" sound in his throat and rolled his eyes. "When you said fighting experience I thought you meant actual experience profligate. You will not stand against even the most debased of gladiators." Titus sneered at me.

"Hey, hey hey!" I protested, putting my hands up. Titus had removed the chains from my arms and legs, saying that if I could manage to take him down, half starved, dehydrated and exhausted, he deserved to die. "I didn't know you wanted me for fighting! If that's what I knew I was going to be bought for it i said I was experienced, I would have never said it!"

Titus snorted again. "And yet here we are, at an impasse. I need a fighter, and you lied to me about being one." He cocked his head slightly. "But do you know the difference between you and me?" He whispered conspiratorially. "I fucking own you, degenerate."

Up until this point, I had a rather mixed opinion about legionnaires. They were all bloodthirsty, but they were tolerable unless they had orders or an otherwise legitimate reason to attack you. However, I was now just realizing the simple variety of situations in which they felt that they had legitimate reasons to hate you.

A low sigh escaped my throat. "Fuck." I said, quite simply. Titus smiled, he knew he had won.

"And if you are not a gladiator, the trainer shall make you one!" He proclaimed.

A few minutes later, spent in terse silence, we pulled up in front of a large estate on the outskirts of flagstaff, the old city was overcrowded, filled with profligates who knew nothing of the legions ways, the outskirts were made up of recent additions, with new buildings, forums and markets.

Oh, and arenas, something to which I was soon to find out.

We stopped, and the slave who had driven us from the market to the manor untied the horses and led them to what looked like a stable. I followed Titus as he walked back to the rear of the large house. Behind it were several smaller houses, each with a tiny garden around them, in the middle was a well. In all honesty, had I not known they were slave quarters, it could have been mistaken for a small, quite homey village. Although there was no glass in the windows on the hovels, there was chicken wire and a curtain over most of them, from two out of the five, lights shone through them.

Titus went to the closest one, and without knocking, opened the door unannounced and walked inside. I followed more cautiously. "Melissa!" He said with a broad smile. "This is my new fighter, Henry. Take care of him, run him a bath, feed him and help him get set up in his new home."

With Titus in my way, I couldn't see much, even though I easily had a head and a half on him, but I heard a voice murmur "It shall be done, master." And Titus scooted past me, into the door frame.

"Make a friend." He told me. "Melissa is hardworking, obedient, take an example from her. Your training shall start at 10AM tomorrow." He nodded curtly and left me there.

I turned around and saw a short women with honey blonde hair, standing there in plain looking clothes. "Hey there," She said with a tired smile. She was older, maybe late thirties or early forties, but was easy on the eyes despite that. "There's soup on the stove, grab yourself a bowl, I'll get you some water for a bath."

"Much obliged ma'am." I said with a thankful nod. I stepped fully inside her small house as she stepped out. I took off my boots and got myself a bowl of the soup, and cut myself a piece of the corn bread that sat next to it. I devoured it as she brought a metal bucket sloshing with water from the well. She set it on the wood stove and sat down across the table from me.

I looked up and smiled, before sticking out my hand. She took it, her hands were covered in calluses and she had quite the firm grip. "Henry Clarke."

She gave me another one of those tired smiles. "Henry eh? Melissa Blackthorne. Just call me Mel though." I made a mental note of that. "So you're the new gladiator? Don't look like all that much."

I snorted. "As much as your confidence inspires me, it wasn't exactly my idea to become a gladiator, yet here I am."

She raised an eyebrow. "I never could have guessed that one." She said, her voice laced with sarcasm. She appraised me with the same sort of eye Titus had. "Maybe I'm wrong though," She cocked her head to the side "You just might make it through a training session or two."

"A winning vote of confidence." I raised my eyebrow.

She and I sat for a few minutes in silence. Eventually The water came to a boil, she carefully grabbed the bucket and motioned for me to follow her. She led me across the way towards one of the dark houses. "Here's your bathwater." She said. "Bathroom's that one" She pointed to one of the three small rooms branching off from the main kitchenette/living area. I went inside and washed myself carefully, avoiding the opportunity to aggravate the multitude of bruises and scrapes I'd gotten on my adventure. Mel popped in about halfway through, causing me to yelp and grab a towel that had been here to cover myself.

"Calm down cowboy I ain't here for that little thing."

"Hey-"

"Hey yourself, here's your new clothes." She tossed a pair of linen pants at me, and a plain cotton shirt. "Your bedding is set up and you've got five extra sets of clothing, a pair of sandals and a pair of boots outside. When you need something washed, see me."

I shook my head "Wait, you do the housework for me?" I asked confusedly.

"Of course," She said with a shrug. "A gladiator can't do his own work." She also shook her head. "I take care of the other slaves, Titus has his own house slaves for his needs. I take care of you, Arthur and whoever else Titus decides to buy. I cook the meals, draw the baths, repair clothing, anything that you can't be bothered to do."

I scratched at my stubble. "I can do that stuff, and who's Arthur?"

"You won't want to after a day of fighting or training though." She pointed out. "As a fighter you're valuable, you get certain privileges." She stopped and eyed me critically after I had pulled on the clothes. "Hm, I'll need to hem in your shoulders, fighters are usually broader."

"You still haven't told me who Arthur is!" I said.

"Your trainer." She simply said, she considered me for a moment more and then began walking away. "You should get some sleep." She advised. "Yesterday was the only easy day." And like that, she was gone.

I yawned, realizing just how tired I was. Taking her advice, I found my bed and collapsed on it, not even bothering to get under the neatly made blankets.


End file.
